


On Chocolate

by crossingwinter



Series: Somewhat canonical [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chocolate, F/M, First Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus Lupin ruminates on chocolate.</p><p>Because it has become his symbol in this fandom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Chocolate

Every time he unwrapped a chocolate frog, or stopped by Honeydukes for free samples, he remembered his first time.

(Not _that_ first time.  Though increasingly he remembered that one.)

He always felt a slight twinge of guilt when the two were associated in his mind though, since they had had nothing to do with each other.

He had never, much to his own surprise, associated sex and chocolate.  Not until Dora.

Dora would often smile at him when he would bring home different kinds of chocolate home.  She never needed it quite as much as he did.  It was not as fundamental to her life.

He expanded her pallet for it, and soon she knew better than to express too much joy at milk chocolate; that excitement over free trade was always appreciated; that seasalt and pepper, chile powder, almonds, and caramel were all acceptable additions; and that, if she wanted to get him in the mood, she only needed to kiss him with chocolate still in her mouth, its taste still on her tongue.

(To be fair, she expanded his pallet when it came to sex, too.)

He remembered watching a muggle movie once, when he had been unemployed for six months and had often used magic to sneak into the muggle cinemas.  The main character had said “Life is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you are going to get.”

He liked that line.

Mostly because he liked chocolate.

But also because it was true.

Sometimes, chocolate was the weird kind, with surprise lemon flavoring and a crunch whose cause he couldn’t quite locate.

Sometimes it was Dora licking chocolate off his bared chest, moving further and further down…

Sometimes, it was Poppy Pomfrey breaking apart a slab of chocolate the size of his head with a mallet while he laid in bed wishing that the pounding in his head would stop—or that she would just break apart his head with a mallet.

Sometimes it was his mother, leaning over him and kissing him and placing something sweet and smooth on his tongue, and knowing that whatever pain he is in is manageable so long as the taste lingers on his taste buds.

That was his first time, by the way.  When he was five, and hurting, and not knowing why there was so much pain in his body.  When he had bandages over cuts he had not had when he had gone to sleep the night before when the sun was setting.  When his throat was dry and torn, as if he had been shouting or screaming or howling all night, through the nightmare.  But he had been calmed by his mother’s lips on his forehead and a square of milk chocolate on his tongue.

Chocolate was comfort and home.  Milk chocolate especially.  This was the reason why he did not eat it unless he absolutely needed to.

Flavored chocolate was friendship and youth.  (“Try this one, Remus.  It’s half off!  Might be worth it?” “Are you mental? Moony only ever buys high quality chocolate.  He’s not going to want to eat the population’s leavings.” “Chocolate covered tofu—yes or no?”)

Chocolate was sex and passion.  Dark chocolate, because of Dora.

Chocolate was happiness, support, and love to a man who often felt like a little boy—lost and confused and in pain.


End file.
